"But doesn't it hurt? Not letting anything out at all? Don't you ever want to cry? Does it feel good just bottling up your feelings?" Kanade is a girl who believes feelings shouldn't be shared. They were deeper...they were felt. Not expressed.

When Nathan reads his teenage stepdaughter's diary entry, proclaiming that she would like to kill him, he is disturbed when soon after, mysterious accidents begin to happen to him. Is it possible that she truly intends to carry out her word? Written 2012.

The Reverend climbs the staircase to complete his evening prayers, but he doesn't look to see what's behind him. Not that it would help, of course... A creepyish short story imagined up in a church. Reviews are more than welcome, they are encouraged greatly. AND REVIEWS ARE RETURNED.

"Did it hurt much?" I wanted to cry, remembering the furnace, "Yes, a lot." A sob gurgled in my throat. "You made it to your room no worries?" I nodded, sticking a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. "Ontar, can I ask you something?" His old face went to a tight smile, "Of course." I waited a moment, "Why does Mother kill me? What did I do?"

Austin was just getting ready to go back to college when things started getting...strange. He hasn't been receiving contact from his friends, everything is quiet, and life is no where to be seen. It all comes clear to him after he gets a note on his apartment door.

My mask is rooted deep. I don't know where the mask ends and I begin. Who am I? Am I anything at all or am I just another layer of the mask? rated t for safety. poetry on a technicality, doesn't actually rhyme

How do you kill a story? Children tell ghost stories, but when they tell them they believe every word. One man decides that he is going to try and get inside the mind of a child and rid it of it's nightmares. There is no way he could have guessed the consequences.

He was just Damon. The kid who had to do everything the same everyday, it was a grey world for him. That all changed though when an alien named Kelarrsik kidnapped him. I greatly appreciate any reviews and will respond as quickly as possible. Oh, and there is a time skip between chapters one and two. -Noctiphobia

Bleh. To me it's foolishness. I wrote it about a year ago, loved it, grew up a little, now I hate it. Read if you want, hate if you want, review regardless, 'cause even though I know it's definitely not my best, I still believe there might be some foolishness in here still present in even my nowadays stories. Horror .cause it was meant to be. Friendship .cause it is there regardles

"Don't ever let your room be too dark at night." Her mother told her years ago as a bedtime story. "Or the Lady Spade will come after you. She likes the children who sleep in pitch black. She turns them into monsters, and then they live in the darkness for all eternity."

Humans. They embed memories into everything: other humans, words, laughter, objects. They may be tiny or large; either way, eventually, these memories gain a voice...and they speak. When they are not heard...they begin to scream.

"Letters stand, half-torn and bleeding white. Mismatched and lopsided, heads turned lone and gaunt—searching for a partner." A complex allegory to despair, isolation, and murder, told through the perspective of letters sprawled across the page of a killer.

I'm willing to bet that you've seen the movie Cinderella. If you haven't, the sarcastic narrator is going to get out of this story and throttle you. Anyways, that's definitely NOT how it happened. In fact, it all started with a horrible bottle of catsup.

The mangled wreck of a PT Cruiser can be a tortured soul's last refuge. It can cleanse the pain, soothe the hurt, but this car and what lives on inside it doesn't offer peace without consequence. Once you enter this car, you may never be able to leave.